


Not Yet

by gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Coda, F/M, Flirting, Kissing, Missing Scene, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 16:14:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4398686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/pseuds/gaslightgallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slight extension to the end of Phryne and Jack's duet in "Dead Air" (2x11).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Yet

**Author's Note:**

> This was [rivendellrose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/rivendellrose/pseuds/rivendellrose)'s idea, I'm just running with it, as usual. ♥

_We’re merely mammals, let’s misbehave!  
We’re merely mammals, let’s misbehave... _

Jack brought their little duet to a skillful close and turned to glance at Phryne, it must be said, rather mischievously. She couldn’t help dropping her glance momentarily to his lips, which were drawn into the hidden sort of grin he often displayed in her presence, wide and quiet and, so she thought, desperately fond.

Well, he _had_ chosen the song… She let her hand come to rest, with studied nonchalance, on his thigh, and watched closely.

Yes, just there… just the tip of Jack’s tongue emerging to lick those pliant lips, just a hint of teeth biting his bottom lip briefly, and his eyes darkening with desire as they dipped, for an instant, to her mouth. They flickered back up almost immediately, a question plain in their depths.

Phryne leaned forward. With only her fingertips, she touched Jack’s face, and with the lightest of touches pressed her lips to his. His eyes fluttered closed in what Phryne could only describe as bliss.

It was barely a kiss, a tentative caress that let her taste the champagne still lingering on his skin, and feel the release of the tension that he seemed to always carry in his muscles.

She felt his hand leave the piano and clasp hers on his thigh. She gripped his fingers tightly in return, lacing them with hers and stroking the side of one knuckle with the pad of her thumb.

When they parted, she found Jack looking at her with an expression of wistfulness. He wanted her, that much was obvious. More than obvious, Phryne noted, lowering her eyes to their joined hands and sneaking a surreptitious glance at the fly of his trousers.

She was accustomed to taking what she wanted. Jack, she knew, was not. It was a strangely appealing quality, and a maddening one.

All she could do was try.

"Well, Jack?" she said, with a small, deep smile. "Shall we leave the others to their celebrating and... misbehave?"

His attention dropped to her lips again, and possibly a little lower. Phryne held her breath, wondering if this would be the night...

"Perhaps another time, Miss Fisher," he said, his voice gone gravelly with emotion. "At a less public occasion. With a more... eloquent song."

She understood. He was not saying, 'Never.' He was saying, 'Not yet.' Phryne's disappointment was assuaged, though, by the look he gave her as he raised her hand to his lips. "A more eloquent song... Do you have one in mind?"

He tilted his head slightly, and something in Phryne's middle twisted pleasantly. "Not yet, Miss Fisher. Not yet."

She could live with that, for a little longer, at least.

"You play very well," she said, to keep him from leaving, though she did reluctantly part with his hand.

"Thank you. I learned as a boy." He laid his fingers on the keyboard again, not playing, but depressing a silken ivory key here and there, as though to savor the weight and the tone. "This is a beautiful instrument. Much finer than anything I've played before. I confess I've been longing to try it since the first time I sat in this parlor."

Phryne drew one knee up and hugged it to her chest. It was not a comfortable position to adopt, sitting on a piano bench, but she was loathe to move to the window seat and put any more space between them. "Well, you are welcome, Jack, to come to my house and play my piano whenever you like. These ivories aren't tickled nearly as often as they ought to be."

He replied with a long sideways glance that was all her cheeky smirk deserved, and which said everything possible about the frequency with which he thought her 'ivories' were tickled. Phryne met his sardonic look with one of challenge. But all he said was, "Do you play, Miss Fisher?"

"Very, very badly. The piano was not one of the ladylike accomplishments that I was able to acquire." She watched, enthralled, as Jack's hands danced idly and improvised on Cole Porter. "But you seem very at home in this position. Did you study music at school?"

"I took a few lessons as a boy, and I learned a great deal during a stint in hospital, in France." Jack's hands seemed to move independently of him now, finding their places easily while he studied a print on the opposite wall. "I grew up around pianos."

"Really? Your... parents were musical?"

That made Jack smile. "My father was. He worked as a piano-tuner for Wertheim's in Richmond, when I was a boy, before they built the big factory, but it was actually my mother who wanted me to learn to play. She wanted her kids to make something of themselves, so any improvement was worth an extra pound here and there."

"And your father agreed?"

"Dad knew a lost battle when he saw one," said Jack very seriously, a laugh lurking in his eyes.

"What a sensible man," Phryne replied, with a wicked little grin. "Now I see where you get it from."

"And what might 'it' be, Miss Fisher? My stolid policeman's common sense? Or my habit of giving determined women their way?"

She drew her other knee to her chest and sparkled at him. "You tell me."

"Not yet, Miss Fisher." Jack gently played the last few notes of 'Let's Misbehave' once more. "Not yet."


End file.
